


I Don't Know

by daeguandbusan



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, idk what i wrote
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daeguandbusan/pseuds/daeguandbusan
Summary: It was too ambiguous to know, to vague to confirm. So they keep avoiding one another and the problem at hand as their relationship hardened. Based on 글쎄 and Jihoon's "it's vague".





	

**Author's Note:**

> This somehow came up as I was repeated listening to 글쎄 (Well/I Don't Know) and watching Jihoon's interview where he said "It's vague" regarding his relationship status. 
> 
> I don't like reading angst, but I do enjoy writing one lol.
> 
> This is just a word-turned-short-fic vomit of some sort, so yeah, pardon for any grammatical mistakes and messy plot.

Life has always been a parallel course.

 

After fall would come winter.

 

After rain, then rainbow emerges.

 

With every birth, it ends with death.

 

It should have been that way, supposedly. That was what Jihoon chose to believe anyway.

 

He had expected one straight line with a definite end in sight, the figment of far future was set as his only destination. At age 15, Jihoon’s future was as clear at the day as he assembled and reassembled the perfect plan in his head, firm pieces fitted accordingly. A singer and renowned composer, if possible a company of his own. A journey he had thought would serve him both purpose and happiness.

 

Like others, he had expected to find a mate to live with for the rest of his life. Walking hand-in-hand until their legs were too weak to stand properly, faces plagued with age. Even with wrinkles and bad knees, Jihoon had envisioned a happy future. One with a smile on his face (and an identical one on his partner's), satisfied with one achieved dream after another.

 

Yet at the age of 21, he found himself veering from the path he had initially paved. And sadly, despite the constant steering and running, Jihoon was unable to get back on it.

 

He was lost.

 

More so, it was as if he just made the biggest u-turn and headed for the wrong direction.

 

Jihoon was going backwards and for once, he just could not understand why.

 

As been told by many known faces in his life, friendships were meant to be stronger and relationships were meant to be more profound along with the change of time. From strangers to acquaintances, then of course friends and probably, lovers next. He wanted to believe he too led the same pattern of 'bonding' with others, adhered to a specific _so-called_ framework. Particularly with Jeonghan and Jun, two of which he felt awkward at first, yet becoming inseparable later on. Of course, Jihoon did share the same sentiment with the rest of SEVENTEEN members.

 

Except for one.

 

Choi Seungcheol.

 

A leader, a friend, a brother.

 

Now a stranger.

 

Jihoon did not know what and how exactly it went wrong. All his brain could register was the known fact their dynamic had regressed by a lot. Almost non-existent. Days that were filled with warm hugs and kisses were replaced with cold stares and silence. Passing by as if it’s a seasonal occurrence. Sadly, the old sentiments did not make a return, not even after a full rotation. A year, then two -- the awkwardness lingered like winter with no spring to visit.

 

They were stuck in a loop, frozen in a state Jihoon wished would melt away.

 

But it didn't. 

 

Though he did try to be hopeful once, thinking the special connection they shared would come back the very next year.

 

Instead, it had worsened.

 

To a point he could no longer be in the same room as Choi Seungcheol. That he had to escape from the building discomfort and ironically loud silence. With the lack of Seungcheol however, Jihoon admitted he was getting rather lonely. So he tried to seek comfort by holding onto Jeonghan’s hands, wrapping his arms around Jun’s waist and indulging the warmth from Mingyu’s open embrace. And when he drowned himself with laughter and obnoxiously loud chatters, happiness was expected to follow suit. From the photos of him smiling at fansigns, to him laughing open-mouthed at reality shows; Jihoon believed memories of the past were safely tucked in the back of his mind.

 

Or so he thought. 

 

Two summers had went by and the growing void in his heart was anything but filled. 

 

As much as he wanted to deny it, Seungcheol was irreplaceable.

 

There were multiple occasions where dozens of questions came up his throat. Tipping on the edge of his lips and ready to be poured out for a needed confrontation. Yet every time he saw how the infamous smile and dimples on Seungcheol’s face disappeared when Jihoon came into view, he knew he didn’t need to ponder on.

 

Because the answer was loud and clear.

 

It was his fault; it had always been.

 

And Jihoon could not risk stripping the smile he had come to love. He didn’t have the heart to – not after what the bond between Seungcheol and him had ceased to be. In the end, he clamped his lips shut, locking himself in his mini studio as he wrote and composed for the benefit of others. The only way he could be useful on the trail he had forever ruined.

 

\------------

 

Never in Jihoon life had he been so careless.

 

So reckless.  

 

He blamed his already chaotic brain when multiple memories came rushing onto him like a tsunami, washing a huge chunk of lucidity away. In the spur-of-the-moment, Jihoon was too perplexed to even ‘think’. Heck, he barely even noticed Seungkwan who was yammering beside him, probably trying to save his stupid ass.

 

His fucking _stupid_ ass.

 

Which was supposed to be more than enough warning.

 

But in his defense, Jihoon was too caught up with his inner turmoil to be right-headed, his composure long gone as he muttered into the microphone with a soft “it’s…vague.”

 

It took him seconds to register the words that had flew out of his lips, regret later setting in. It was unlike him to be that transparent, voluntarily putting his heart out for others to see. Yet he did it anyway and he didn’t know what the hell was he thinking - or worst, what Seungcheol could be thinking. Because Jihoon swore he could feel the weight of said male’s stare throughout the rest of the radio session.

 

Even if Seungcheol were to be looking, the elder be damned.

 

For there were still another 15 minutes on the clock and Jihoon could not afford to make another blunder. 

 

He just wanted to finish the damn thing as quietly as possible and perhaps avoid Seungcheol for at least a week or so. It should be easy as they weren't talking much anyway -- aside from the general discussion regarding tracks and album. Still, it was better to keep the distance that had increased over the time.

 

However, much to Jihoon’s chagrin, Seungcheol was having none of it.

 

In fact, the other seemed determined as he crossed Jihoon’s path on his way back to the dorm after a late night practice, his face unreadable. It took Jihoon a cup of instant coffee from the inconvenience store to relent as he trailed behind Seungcheol to a nearby park. Both immobile on respective cold swings on a winter night.

 

Jihoon was too scared to move, too tired to speak.

 

So he let silence further smother them, intending to choke out words from the obviously restless male beside him instead. Besides, he wasn’t the one who insisted on having ‘the talk’, unlike Seungcheol who was persistent enough to wait for him at 3AM. Back then, during predebut, that itself would have been a sweet gesture, given how they used to walk home together, breeze of early dawn blowing in their faces. But that piece of romance they shared had perished, consumed by both ego and ambiguities.

 

“Jihoon-ah.”

 

And the wall around Jihoon almost crumbled, along with the dam of tears behind his eyes. Because it had been awhile since he last heard such fondness to his name, reminded how hollow Seungcheol had sounded whenever he spoke or called for him as of lately. An established tone he had frequently used on shows and interviews, an effort to mask the drift existed between the two individuals.

 

To hear the same deep voice with a slight vibration (a familiar tone Jihoon had heard in the past) almost pulled him into the depth of nostalgia.

 

“Jihoon-ah.”

 

There was it again.

 

“Lee Jihoon.”

 

Said male settled for a short hum, fearing a squeak might have escaped. For his throat had constricted, too tight to utter a solid “ _yes, I’m listening"._ Though thankfully, Seungcheol seemed to have gotten the message. 

 

“Just now, at the you know-"  _oh god not this_ “- when asked about being in a relationship-"  _please anything but this_ “- you said it’s rather vague?” and thus it was out, all suspended in the air, waiting to be addressed. The baton was passed to Jihoon and he did not know if he had the strength to keep holding on. Or to simply throw the baton aside, confrontation could go fuck itself. However, he knew running from his own problems was never the best solution.

 

Even though his hands felt cold and the baton was pricking his skin, he chose to curl his slender fingers tightly around it. 

 

Jihoon couldn't let go of reality.

 

"Yeah, I did."

 

"What," Seungcheol cleared his throat once, "-what did you mean by that?" 

 

"You know exactly what I meant, hyung."

 

Almost instantly, the baton in hand was passed back to Seungcheol. The younger's honest answer had completely caught him off guard as he stared at Jihoon, whose eyes wide, lips parted. And in the split second of confusion, Seungcheol saw everything he had to see. The absence of colour in Jihoon's face, the lack of shine in his eyes and the taut line to his lips. Jihoon looked pale in comparison to the pink oversized sweater he was wearing and Seungcheol had to refrain himself from hugging the boy. From crossing the unspoken line between them.

 

Seungcheol did not want to force on Jihoon. 

 

Although it was hard not to.

 

And again, both of them were enveloped in a thick sheet of silence. Sighing, Seungcheol tore his eyes from Jihoon to the ground beneath his feet, "What happened to us."

 

Jihoon shrugged, the coffee in his hand seemed too cold to wash down the block of ice in his throat. It was not a question, it was more of a statement; and Jihoon knew that. Years of friendship had taught him the varying tones in Seungcheol's speech. He then realised he knew too much about the other, too much to notice not to. Though silence was what Jihoon sought for instead, letting the still air carry the heaviness in his chest. 

 

For once, he did not know what to say.

 

"What went wrong?" 

 

"I ask the same thing myself, everyday."

 

"Can't we go back?"

 

Another shrug, "I don't really know."

 

"Isn't there any solution? Can't we make this work?"

 

"That might be hard."

 

"Then can we at least start afresh?" desperation could be heard in Seungcheol's voice, hazel eyes anchoring Jihoon down. Seungcheol was half-expecting a clear-cut answer this time; Jihoon could see it, could _feel_ it. But he was afraid of taking second chances, afraid he might fuck it up twice. That there was a haunting possibility he would have to go through the same pain again and again.

 

His feelings aside, Jihoon did not know if he could stand seeing Seungcheol in such a miserable state, unfitting of the leader's image. Especialy when Jihoon was led to a conclusion that he might not be the best fit for Seungcheol. Others be damned because he had already convinced himself to believe so. Contradictory to the leader who wanted nothing but Jihoon, who could not see no one but the small composer. Of course, Jihoon was oblivious to notice the longing, the parched heart begging for affection. 

 

Seungcheol wanted to convince the seemingly apprehensive male. To embrace and tell Jihoon how he meant the world. Yet when Seungcheol reached for Jihoon's wrist, trembling lips ready to confess his undying love, the boy shook free. 

 

"I'm sorry."

 

And Seungcheol could only stare at the already spilled coffee on the ground as Jihoon left, tears continuously falling on his entire way home.

 

Call him coward, but Jihoon couldn't stand it (the previous warmth around his wrist, the little butterflies in his stomach) for it hurt - too much. Little did he know, Seungcheol too was trying to breathe through the pain in his chest as the image of Jihoon's retracting back getting blurry with the building tears.

 

Clueless tears.  

 

They didn't know what exactly went wrong, but Seungcheol knew time was what both of them needed at the moment. So time shall he give. He believed in Jihoon, in them. 

 

_Let's talk next time._


End file.
